


We'll Go By Way of the Garden (Like Swimming for the Very First Time)

by SharpestScalpel



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, preslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-11
Updated: 2011-10-11
Packaged: 2017-10-24 12:12:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/263353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharpestScalpel/pseuds/SharpestScalpel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik wakes up hard; a wet and inviting Charles inspires him to take care of it later in the day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We'll Go By Way of the Garden (Like Swimming for the Very First Time)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fill for the following kink meme prompt:
> 
> http://xmen-firstkink.livejournal.com/5215.html?thread=5689951#t5689951
> 
>  _A few ideas (you can mix and match)_
> 
>  _Erik wakes up with a raging hard on after dreaming about Charles and masturbates (maybe even to what he dreamed about)._
> 
>  _Erik is watching Charles do something that turns him on so much that he has to excuse himself and masturbate_
> 
>  _Bonus if Charles watches him (unknowingly to Erik) or Charles walks in on him. From there it's up to you._

He'd woken up hard, aching with it, his cock a heavy throb against his belly. At the mansion, Erik slept naked for the sheer ludicrous indulgence of it; necessity had dictated he sleep clothed, ready to respond in an instant, for so many years he had forgotten the cool slide of cotton sheets against his back. He'd leave soon enough - Erik promised himself that he would, no matter how appealing Charles made his false alternatives sound. He'd leave soon enough, but that morning Erik had stretched, felt the tug against skin already pulled taut, and run the flat of his palm down the center of his own chest, destination clear enough in his own mind.

Then had come the banging at his door - Erik out of bed and on his feet, crouched and ready to attack, before he could consciously govern his actions. "Mr. Lensherr, Mr. Lensherr, Charles says you have to get up!" Erik had rolled his eyes - Charles seemed to enjoy putting the younger mutants in Erik's path. He probably considered it training of some sort. Either that or a demonstration of how Erik could fit in, be a role model and a teacher. And then he had gone to take a very cold shower, the desires of his body incidental to the demands of his day.

It was unfortunate that he'd been interrupted, Erik thought. It was unfortunate and contributing to his current discomfort. Charles had gotten the pool repaired. The children... frolicked was really the only adequately descriptive term, even Angel joining in the laughter and play. Erik shifted on the poolside chair and watched as Charles, wet and sleek as a seal, splashed with them. Blue swim trunks - did everything the man wear coordinate with his infernal eyes?

"Are you sure you won't join us, Erik? It's really very refreshing." Charles clung to the side of the pool, water streaming from his hair, water droplets clinging to his shoulders, the delicate skin of his neck, his plump earlobes. The rest of his body was pale and inviting below the surface, singing for Erik to shipwreck himself there.

Erik shook his head. Steady breathing was the key. A slow and regular rhythm so that he did not pull Charles from the water like a captured selkie, pelt hidden away for safekeeping so that the man had to do his bidding. It was for the best that Charles had agreed to stay out of Erik's mind.

Not that Erik entirely trusted Charles to do so, especially when Charles looked up at him from under spiky wet lashes and flushed like a virgin from one of those romance novels Charles was always hiding.

"Do you know how to swim, my friend?" The children's voices were loud - but somehow sounded distant when Charles took that familiar tone, as though he knew Erik's insides and was comfortable there.

Erik swam with the same brutal efficiency he brought to most other physical tasks. But the question startled a laugh out of him - Charles had pulled him from the water and prevented him from drowning, after all. "If you're going to play with the children, Charles, I'm going to go inside. There are a few matters I meant to attend to earlier in the day." He rose, turned before Charles could argue, and strode away. Despite his determined stride, he could feel Charles watching his progress all the way back to the house.

But inside the house, cool and dim after the glare of the white pool deck, inside the house Erik let his shoulders drop, panted as though he could cool the heat that rose through him when he looked at the other man. Charles flirted like breathing. It meant nothing - nothing but the resurgence of Erik's postponed erection. He climbed the stairs, refused to rush to his bed like a callow youth.

Even so, his pace put him in his room, the door locked behind him, in relatively short order; Erik pulled the polo he'd donned in deference to the heat over his head, let it fall to the floor at the same time he toed off the shoes he'd slipped on for the walk to the pool. He fell back onto the thick mattress, the most comfortable bed he'd ever had - Charles was ceaseless unthinking luxury, one after another, from his ridiculous family estate to his red mouth.

He could have used his power to undo his pants; Erik had long ago established the habit of replacing his buttons with metal ones. But instead Erik did it as Charles might, if Erik ever allowed himself to believe the ridiculous promise of Charles's sly smiles: fingers fumbling at the button, carefully easing the zipper down over his half-hard cock. He'd been half-hard all day. Erik palmed himself through his underwear, a mimicry of that morning's aborted action.

That impossible man, sheltered, idealistic - Erik doubted he could shock Charles but perhaps it said something that he could still shock himself with how much he wanted all that clean smoothness for himself, in his own bed. Erik's body was a tool, a well-used one. Charles... was no innocent, he couldn't be with his power. But he wasn't filthy with it.

Erik could get him dirty. He kicked his pants and underwear off,left himself naked on top of the covers in his borrowed room in this temporary home. It left him feeling exposed; Erik's skin prickled with it, with the thought that any eyes to happen upon him could not fail to see and know what he was doing to himself. He drew his nails up the insides of his thighs, light scratches that raised only temporary welts, nothing he would need to treat later. He'd mark Charles with deeper lines, if he could, watch the color blossom in possessive tracks that would feel raised under his tongue.

His cock was blood warm, and the skin was still velvety soft - the only bit of softness he retained. He petted himself, featherlight fingertips taking in the texture, the change as he hardened more. Erik hurt with it, the delayed desire of waking revisiting him with a slight pain. Next time he would tell whatever brat was at his door that he was busy. Or he'd show Charles what he'd interrupted, hunt the man down to make Charles finish what Erik had started. Erik winced - in that scenario, the children were sure to get an eyeful. Perhaps that was best avoided.

They played chess every night. Charles could sip his drink, move his pawn; Erik could pull him from the recesses of his favored leather chair and bear him to the ground under Erik's weight. Erik rolled over, ground against his hand. Like this then, until he soiled the bed cover with his lust. His breathing increased as he found his rhythm, rasped deep in his chest in time with his regular thrusts. The calluses on his fingers were rough against the underside of his cock - not painful precisely, but enough to focus his attention just there. Erik's hands were rough and he had grown accustomed to it. His hands might surprise Charles though; Charles did not have any calluses, had the academic hands of a man who gestured, who spoke while enjoying the confidence that his audience listened.

Maybe those soft fingers would unravel Erik, though, all his tension, the pain in his left elbow, the cold that always seemed ready to settle in around him. Maybe Charles could pick him apart at the seams and sew him back together all neat and tidy, one orgasm at a time. It was a laughable fantasy, but it was a good one; Erik groaned into his forearm, tried to muffle his sounds in case anyone else had returned to the house.

This was necessary: the flex and clench of his ass, the rustle of the bedding, the slickness of his precome. He wouldn't die from the want of it but he needed it just the same. Erik set his teeth against his skin, needed that sharpness again. He hitched up a bit on his knees, curled his fingers into a fist, fucked into the tight grip the way he wanted to fit himself inside Charles's body, unrelenting and invasive until the man never forgot the feel of him, could taste Erik like quarters under his tongue.

It rolled through him quickly - the tide of it stealing his breath when he'd expected to run for miles without being winded. Erik slowed his pace, thrust slowly and tightened his fingers even more now that the way was eased by his semen. He hung his head, looked down his body. One hand braced against the bed, one working between his scarred thighs, the dark head of his cock appearing and disappearing through the ring of his fist. He gasped all of a sudden, slowed more and then stopped, wiped his messy hand on the bedspread.

Even his toes tingled with the relief of his release.

His toes... and the back of his head, where he'd felt Charles before, where Charles had been exultant to discover another mutant. Erik dropped to his side, calm in a way that would have surprised him if he'd considered this more than a day ago. "I told you to stay out of my head, Charles."

Faint embarrassment, but, underneath it, a raging satisfaction and sense of anticipation. Come swimming with me tonight, Erik. Meet me in the water.

Erik did not expect to be remade - he'd been forged too carefully to serve any other purpose. Fantasies were just that. But he nodded, even as he closed his eyes. "Night swimming."


End file.
